Dean's Bad Sign
by Nicholas de Vilance
Summary: //Au on Born Under a Bad Sign// Sam should have done something the first moment he noticed that Dean wasn't himself. //one-sided Meg/Sam, iffy Dean/Sam, rape//


Dean was looking at me weird ever since we left the bar. I didn't like it. He insisted that I should drive, which was enough to alarm me. Then, when he fell asleep almost immediately, I started to relax a bit. So maybe he was just too tired to drive. It made perfect sense…and I'm the queen of England. I wanted to ask what the heck was going on, but I didn't wake him. I just let him sleep from some sort of fatigue caused by the long week we'd had. It hadn't occurred to me too often that Dean might actually get tired. He was too unfaltering for that. Then again, I knew that was a load of bullcrap. Dean played the tough guy card, but he was just a vulnerable as anyone else, he was still human. It was hard to remember that sometimes.

Carefully, I reached for the stereo and pressed stop on a Motorhead tape to shut off that horrible bass pounding in the car. Dean stirred, but he didn't wake up or anything. Just one more thing that made me anxious about him. Something wasn't right here.

When I pulled up to the motel, I had to basically smash his face in to wake him up. I definitely was not going to carry his ass inside. I was surprised that he wasn't pissed at me. In fact, he didn't seem like himself at all. "You okay?" I asked him. At first, he didn't even respond, seemed like he couldn't hear me. I repeated myself, "Are you okay, Dean?"

Looking up, his eyebrows furrowed for a moment in confusion. "I have a headache," he stated.

I tried to hide my sigh. That relieved me if only a little bit. If he was sick then I had other things to worry about besides him not acting like himself. Besides that it would be a nice wake up call for him to get sick, I didn't think that it was a good time when we were so far away from anyone or anything in case things got bad. "You need some help up?" I asked, knowing that the Dean answer would be something close to his middle finger.

"Yeah sure," he said looking away, "Then maybe a crutch and you can put on a pink apron and start serving me chicken soup." There was the sarcasm I had been looking for. So there was something of Dean left in this weird situation. "I'm fine, Sam."

We both shuffled out of the car, Dean probably a bit annoyed with me, but I was just glad he was himself. Still, there was something about the way he walked or the tone of his voice that I just couldn't get past. A piece of what was normal had slipped away and he wasn't quite himself. I wanted to think that he was just really tired.

It must have been after midnight when I finally got to sleep with the sound of Dean's even breathing on the bed beside me. Of all the things I have done since Jess' death, sleeping at night was the most difficult. Yes, even more so than dealing with my brother's shit. Nightly terrors kept me nervous about even trying for rest. If I was going to have a nightmare, I was not going willingly; I was going to be damn tired before anything else.

However, tonight didn't give me either fright or insomnia. As soon as I lost consciousness, I was woken again by pressure on my legs. The darkness of the motel kept me blind before I could register the soft glow of the neon sign out the window. At first, I didn't want to wake up. I was completely comfortable in the void of emptiness I had been in just moments before, but then I got curious. Something was in the bed with me, pushing the mattress down, making it squeak and cry quietly. Quickly, I realized that my legs were pinned by this weight and I felt a sudden rush of adrenaline. My arms flew up in some defense just to be forced back to the sheets above my head.

"Get off of me!" I snapped loudly, but I was met by a light-hearted chuckle.

"Easy tiger."

"Dean?" I stopped struggling for a moment and squinted through the darkness to see my brother's face just inches above mine. His expression, however, wasn't him at all. With an odd curl at the corner of his mouth and a very slight lift to his eyebrow, I did not know who this was above me. "What's going on?"

Abruptly, he leaned down, his weight pressing even harder on my limbs, giving me no leeway to get away. Even Dean wasn't this strong. The moment I felt his lips against mine, I knew that this couldn't be my brother. I threw my head to the side out of his weird, awkward liplock. "Who are you?" I demanded, pulling at my arms desperately.

Dean's façade became confused. "What the hell are you talking about? I'm your brother, dipshit."

He tried to kiss me again, but I avoided it being that I was more prepared for it this time. Then again, how prepared could I possibly be to have my older brother pinning me to a bed violating me. "Really?" I challenged, "_Christo_."

Immediately, his eyes flashed black and the grip on my arms tightened with his pain. Then, as if I'd flipped some switch in his reflexes, I was pressed down with some unseen force and I couldn't move even when he let me go. "Sammy, Sammy, Sammy," he hissed condescendingly, "Say that again and this is going to be a lot more painful than I'd originally planned."

"Who are you?" I insisted. I couldn't let my vulnerable position get to me at all. I had to stay in control to have at least a hopeless upper hand.

"Like I said." Out of nowhere, his hand came down to my face and held me still. "I'm your brother. Or rather, I'm borrowing him for a little bit." This time, when he leaned down to kiss me, I couldn't stop him. His tongue made its way into my mouth and I have to admit, it was gross. Hell, this was _Dean_.

I pulled and wrenched my way away until he finally just sat back on my legs, a mixed expression of annoyance and amusement. "Stop it," I demanded, fighting uselessly against the tremendous, invisible weight pressing down on me. "Who are you and what do you want?"

"Aw…I'm hurt, Sam," the demon purred. Dean's knees were pinned strictly against my hips and my arms were stuck against the bed stretched out like Jesus on the Cross. There was nothing that I could do to stop him from leaning over me again except squirm. "You honestly don't remember me? I would have thought that our relationship was something a little more…personal." With that, I felt his hot, slick tongue drag up my jaw. "I would have come back with a more familiar meat suit, but unfortunately, you killed her."

My breath caught in my throat and I jerked myself as hard as I could over the sheets beneath my back. "Meg…"

"Nope, now I'm Dean." He adopted a lithe sort of half smirk. "And I have to tell you, he not only has a filthy mind, but it's a bit inspiring. In fact, this plan of mine, how I want to torment you, it was mostly his idea."

"What the hell—?" I didn't get past that word before I got cuffed across the face by none other than my brother's fist. He'd never hit me that hard before—I tried really awkwardly to remember that it wasn't him in there. Nothing felt worse than having your face punched in by your brother when you can't even defend yourself. Blow after blow landed on my bloodying skin before Meg was satisfied and stopped to grab hold of my hair.

"Shhh…" That wicked tongue, _Dean's_ tongue, played at my ear lobe and he eventually released me to pull the blanket off of me. "You know nothing of Hell, you insect. It's a prison where the jailers are prisoners. No remorse, no regret, no mercy. I can still smell the rankness of the fires and souls burning for eternity…_you_ sent me back there. _You _read the exorcism, killed that poor girl and sent me back to the shit pit."

"You didn't care about the girl," I retorted, though I was mostly trying to keep myself in control of my emotions that threatened to go haywire about the fact that _Dean_ was on top of my bare legs and he was _hard_ against my thigh. "What do you want with me?"

"Isn't that the million dollar question?" Then, there his hands were again, tugging down my boxer-briefs and sliding up my undershirt. "I kept trying to decide, you know, what I could possibly do to you as revenge? All that time, waiting to be released, it's good thinking time. Kept me angry—no, _raging_. So I decided. I got out, finally got Dean away from you so I could possess him and now, you're big brother is going to rape you, Sammy."

"No! Get off—"

"Shut up," he snapped, covering my mouth with his large hand. Quickly, I could feel and hear the fabric of my undershirt tearing and finally being yanked out from behind me. I tried so hard to get away, to use my arms and fight Meg off. "You probably won't want to believe this, but it's true. This hard on your brother's sporting—" He ground his hips down on my leg to show me and I choked back an alarmed squeak as best I could "—it's all him. I didn't do anything to instigate it except rub him up against you."

From behind that hand, I called it a liar and as many other nasty things as I could think of. That was bull shit, and I knew it—fuck it if at the time I had a hard time believing myself. "Aw, now Sammy, you should really watch that filthy mouth of yours." My underwear disappeared in an instant and I was uncomfortably nude beneath Dean. "Man, I could lie all I wanted, but where would be the fun in that? The truth is just so much more painful, isn't it? He wants you, Sammy-boy, wants to fuck you so hard that you scream. He's awake right now, watching this, and he loves it."

"No," I insisted, muffled. Beyond my control, I let out the loudest shout I thought possible at the moment. His other hand slid up my thigh, nails digging so deep into my skin that I could swear I was bleeding. It hurt way more than I'd expected from Dean, but then I remembered that demons are a lot stronger than humans are. I couldn't stop my whimper, which then caused a blush because of how humiliating this was. Then, he gripped my crotch.

"_Christo_!" I shouted from behind that hand and he flinched again. In fact, his eyes turned a vicious black and he groaned in something like agony. For a moment, I was alarmed and I wanted to stop it because, hey, it was my brother in pain. As soon as Meg came to mind again, though, I damn near shouted it, ripping that hand away from my face with the new freedom I'd gained.

Meg was furious. My brother's face was gnarled into a mask of raw hatred like I'd never seen before. "You little fucker," he snapped through gritted teeth. Before I could reach under my pillow for my knife—whatever defense that would be against my _brother_—the pressure came back and pinned me again. Suddenly, sharp, cold metal was pressed against my throat and Meg was seething. "I'll kill you. I didn't want to do it that way, in fact, I would prefer to just rape you and have Dean live with that on his conscience for the rest of his life. Every time he would look at you, he would see this, his dirty fantasy forced onto you. But I _will_ kill you."

I didn't care, that threat was nothing compared to the things I'd face. Dean was strong enough to understand if worse came to worse that none of this was his fault, so I started to recite an exorcism. The only one I could remember was very weak, but it worked on Meg last time, so I just had to trust this. "…spiritus e mundi—"

Dean gripped my throat so tight that I couldn't breathe, couldn't speak and the last word I'd managed came out a strangled grunt. Suddenly, I couldn't remember the exorcism I'd been reciting. All that I could see was my big brother glaring down at me with the terrible urge to end me right here and now written across his face. "Shut up," he taunted, the knife now laying with the blade-side against my cheek. "Shh…don't get too excited Sammy." He paused and suddenly the smirk was back on his face. "_Baby_."

It was official. I was nauseated, probably enough to actually vomit. When he gave me that little "endearment," I jerked to the side, desperate to get away. My eyes fell shut a few times and my mouth hung open, trying to get some more air. I suppose that he was waiting for that. His tongue dropped between my lips, licked over my hard pallet and then slipped all the way back, making the strained muscles of my throat contract even more in a gag. My stomach lurched and the coolness of the knife slipping down my side made it worse.

Unexpectedly, he sliced my skin open just over my last ribs. Tears sprung up at the back of my face, stinging the corners of my eyes as bad as the blood pouring from that wound did. Head swimming, eyes fogged over, I barely noticed when I could breathe again. All I registered was some loud gasping and choking. I had no idea that I was making those noises. Burning, blood-soaked, shiny steel ran lightly over my forehead before digging into my cheek, making me bleed more.

As the rush of air cleared my head and gave me my senses back, I felt Dean's hand on my groin again and his mouth sucking my skin just below my navel. My tender gag reflex went haywire. The knife pressed painfully into my jaw and his fingers grabbed me. "Throw up and I'll make you eat it," he threatened. "Don't want you making any more of a mess than necessary."

"Dean," I muttered. This was my last idea, and I hoped to God it worked. "Dean…Please, Dean don't let this happen, _please_!"

My legs were forced apart and Meg undid Dean's jeans, leering very amusedly at me. "He can hear you, Sammy-boy," the demon hissed against my chest. Dean's tongue slithered out

and lapped at my nipple. "Oh, he hears everything right now. And he doesn't care." I gave one last weakened tug at my arms to try and get loose from that power pressing me down. Dean's hand cupped the backs of my knees and lifted them up against my chest.

"No…" I was whimpering, now. He couldn't do this to me, not him. As far as I knew, Dean loved me like a brother and _that was all_. "Dean, help me, please!"

"He doesn't want to," Meg snickered.

"You're wrong," I snapped, the wet feel of tears on my cheeks mixing with his tongue once more sliding over my face. I didn't even bother moving away this time. Something pressed against my ass and knowing what it was made my breath catch in my throat. "Get off of me you evil bastard."

"Dean wants this more than he wants to even try to save you." Clenching my eyes shut, I waited for the inevitable, whispering under my breath, beseeching Dean to stop him. "Feel his cock hard and throbbing? It's gonna be inside you, Sammy, little brother."

"You're not my brother." My voice was little more than a breath loud, but it hitched to a broken cry when he started to enter me.

Dean's laugh filled my mind, his goodhearted chuckle—a damn good imitation, at least—teasing me so cruelly. No, this wasn't Dean…Dean wouldn't hurt me. Oh, FUCK but it hurt so badly. I couldn't scream loud enough to give proper credit for this searing, tearing excruciation speeding like quick silver to my nerves. Brother's arms wrapped tightly around me and suddenly I could move again, struggle.

"Get off!" I screeched, hands flying up to try and pull him away. I dug my nails into his back, kicked my leg out uncontrollably and pulled at his hair. Relentlessly, he started thrusting as soon as I thought I might have been able to survive from this horrible experience. A harsh sob forced itself up and choked me at the top of my throat. The force of his pounding thrusts moved my entire body over the bed and hit my head on the headboard. "Stop!" I begged quietly.

"Shh…" It amazes me even to this day how calm, and mocking that voice could be beside my head. I was practically making his back bleed in my attempts to tear him away from me. "It's okay, Sam. I'm gonna take care of you." I threw up just a little in my mouth and my heart pounded in my head and in all of the places that I was bleeding—my side, my face, my…At some point I lost consciousness.

"Oh shit," came the voice, piercing into the safe-haven of the darkness of my brain. "Sam, please wake up. _Please!_" Whoever-it-was was making a big racket, out of what sounded like desperation and concern, but it still hurt my ears. I wanted to stay in my mind for a while longer. What had just happened to me made it too scary coming out yet. I was comfortable and I was safe from things that go bump in the night. And Dean, I was safe from Dean as well.

The fuzziness thinned out so that I was aware of the nudging pressure on my shoulders and the dull pains on my body. "C'mon, Sammy, wake up for me. Don't do this right now, kid. Wake up." Speaking of Dean, the voice sounded like him. No, I couldn't deal with him right now, not after what happened. After what he did to—No! He didn't do that to me. With a groan, I came back to myself enough for the dull pains to return to their full-blown agony. "Oh fuck, what did I do to you?" Dean whimpered helplessly.

As soon as I remembered how, I picked my arm up and shoved away the prodding hands. My eyes opened, I looked blankly at him for a moment. The worry and pain on his face contrasted to what I'd gone out with, so the force of his emotion struck me harder than any punch could. "Nothing," I snapped once my voice was back.

"Are you okay? Can you move? Do you need anything?" It was a long list of questions that he spewed out at me about my well-being and whatnot. I didn't catch half of them because my head was still pounding violently.

"Just shut up," I pleaded quietly. He obeyed immediately, for a few seconds at least.

Apparently, he couldn't keep his lips together. Maybe some overflow of emotion built up so that he couldn't hold it in. "I am so sorry, Sammy. I'm so…god I can't believe this happened."

"Dean please shut up. My head is going to explode."

"Sorry," he amended quickly, taking a few deeps breath to calm himself. It hurt to look at, the way that he winced when his eyes scanned my face. The incredulity was only outweighed by his "scared little girl" eyes and "holding back vomit" frown. When he spoke next, he kept it down to a low tone that I could handle better. "I didn't mean to Sam. I couldn't control myself, you know that, right?"

"Yeah," I told him with a nod. Of course, I couldn't help the twitch when he reached for my face. In that moment, he looked like he wanted to curl up and die. "I know Dean, I swear I know. You were possessed, okay? I wouldn't even think of blaming you."

"Meg was lying, she had no idea what I was thinking during—"

"So you were awake." He stopped and looked at me, bewildered. In fact, he gave the impression that I'd taken a cleaver and threatened to chop his head off. Just when I was thinking that his eyes couldn't get any wider. "You saw all of it?"

Lowering his head, he lifted a hand and rubbed idly at the back of his neck were a few long, red marks lay. I got the feeling that I did that. "Yeah," he mumbled hesitantly, "I felt like someone had just hacked into my video game and took over my character. I couldn't do anything but watch and scream at that sadistic, evil bastard." This time, even though I couldn't get comfortable with the contact, he put his fingers on my forehead at the top of the cut. "This doesn't look too good." There was Dean again, the one I knew who always tried to cover himself.

"Doesn't feel too good either," I commented. What else was I going to say? I moved awkwardly, remembering my side, but once I stretched my arm up I felt something peel away from it with a stinging tear. I hissed through my teeth at the sting.

"Oh, careful." _Yeah, thanks for the warning, _I thought dismally. He held me down with one hand and pulled gently at whatever it was on my side. Once the pain died down and I could open my eyes without them watering, I saw him produce a bloodied rag from my skin. "I had to stop the bleeding, I was really afraid you might die."

"Don't be silly. It's not that deep."

He made a face and shrugged. "Well, at the time, all I saw was blood and way too much of it." I watched as he leaned over me and examined it, but I couldn't move much to actually see what it looked like. "Maybe you're right. Maybe it _wasn't_ too bad. I think you ripped it a little, though. Sorry." The apology came before he did anything that required it, so I was about to ask. Then my voice broke off in a shout when he pressed on it. "Shit, You need stitches, Sam."

"I didn't rip it just for the hell of it, you know," I grumbled. This babying thing he was pulling was grating on my nerves. "Isn't there a sewing kit in the bathroom?"

"You don't want to go to the hospital?"

Something about the way he looked at me then made me want to smack him. Raised eyebrow, mouth curved down in a disapproving sort of gaze. "No, I don't want to go to the hospital." I had to try not to raise my voice. "If I go in there with a bunch of bruises and knife-wounds, they're going to want to check out the rest of me and there's something I don't want them looking at, thank you very much." He looked at me as thought he'd missed the punch line. "Sodomy shows, Dean. Especially when it's forced, and if I'm bleeding, I don't need some asshole doctor asking me about my butt."

With a little "oh" noise, Dean nodded awkwardly. "So you want me to do it, then?" He may have tried to hide it, but I couldn't miss the reluctance/fear in his voice.

I then realized that this wasn't something that he would be comfortable with doing. Quite unexpectedly, I also figured out that this trauma that was in my head, that was making me flinch away from him and then scold myself like this was affecting him to. I wasn't the only one raped when Meg possessed him. He'd had to watch it all and not be able to do _anything_. Maybe it wasn't such I good idea to make him do this. "I can," I offered, "I can do it myself if you don't want to."

"No," he insistent adamantly, "I'll do it." Without another word, he went to the bathroom to get the sewing kit.

I look back at that night and how odd the transitions were. How Dean quickly went from my brother to a demon back to my brother again. Meg had left her mark, just as she planned to do. Dean couldn't look at me without thinking about _what he'd done_ and I couldn't let Dean touch me without assuring myself that he wasn't going to hurt me. Just that fact alone makes those awkward silences in the Impala just that much worse and the nights in empty diners a little more intimidating. He is very careful of me now as I am of him, but neither of us have plans on leaving any time soon. We can't abandon each other now, no matter what we'd been trying before. Now, ironically, we were stuck together more firmly—heck, maybe that theory that sex creates a bond isn't just horse-shit after all.


End file.
